Menelmacar by Fuin  

That he awaited the end of time was not a thing Beleg had ever spoken aloud, although he suspected that at least Mablung had guessed it. He still preferred the quiet of the forests to the rushed larger cities of Aman, just as he had preferred Dimbar and Neldoreth above Menegroth during his life in Beleriand. But deep within those cities, in Valimar and Tirion and Alqualondë and many others, the loremasters had created in their great libraries sanctuaries not only of knowledge, but of a deep silence which Beleg loved well. There, he had studied the lore and the legends about Dagor Dagorath, and he had read everything that there was to read about the Last Battle, be it scientific analyses or romantic poetry—and secretly, he had hoped.

Now though, the end of time has come and Menelmacar shines brightly upon his face, and yet no trace of Túrin Turambar can be found.

It should not come as a surprise that he hides his face from those who had loved him. Beleg wishes Túrin would have come back to him. But then again, he knew him well and has half-expected that Túrin would not believe himself to still be loved as he is, although the manner of this love has changed for some. To him it must seem that he brought only darkness into their lives, as the shadow of Tilion's vessel had sometimes darkened Arien's flame. Túrin had always been blind to his own light.

Beleg's love for him remains unchanged, and drawn to him as by the invisible pull of gravity, he sets out on a search for him once more. It is for the sake of Arda, he tells the others. It is for his own sake, too—but this thought he keeps to himself.

This time, he hopes, Túrin will follow his guidance on the road that leads up to the Last Battle.